


The Dog (The acquisition of, proceeding custody battle related to, and outcome)

by Preelikeswriting



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preelikeswriting/pseuds/Preelikeswriting
Summary: A dog arrives in the canyon, chaos ensues, Washington struggles not to pull his own hair out.(Takes place somewhere in Season 11)Written for redvsbluesecretsanta 2018





	The Dog (The acquisition of, proceeding custody battle related to, and outcome)

   The look on Tucker’s face that Wash saw as he left his room almost made him turn heel and go back to bed. Screw the nightmares, screw the caffeine withdrawal he was facing. Seeing the same look of Grif’s face, and an equally unnerving (though admittedly more sheepish) version across Simmons's face made him wish he’d died when the ship crashed.  
  
   “Wash, buddy, pal-”   
  
   Wash held up a hand cutting the sim trooper off, “Tucker, I’m gonna ask you once. What,” he paused, locking eyes with the shorter man, “did you do?”   
  
   If anything Tucker’s grin grew wider, and in tandem with it, Wash came to the sudden realization that Caboose was missing. “That’s the best part- I didn’t do shit.”   
  
   “It was a gift from the gods themselves,” Grif added with faux sageness as he helped himself to Blue Team rations, “come to deliver us from boredom,”   
  
   Wash narrowed his eyes, gaze shifting from man to man, the weakest link was the same as it had always been. He locked eyes with the Red, even as the other man did his best to avoid his gaze. “Simmons,” he jumped a good foot in his chair, an impressive feat in full power armor, “care to explain?”   
  
   “No, no, not particularly,” he squawked, though he quickly began to cave as Wash arched a brow. It was a tactic Wash found far more effective these days then it had ever been back in Project Freelancer. Bottle blonde curls and lingering baby fat long gone, as long as Carolina didn’t feel like gracing them with her presence, he felt pretty confident in his position as ‘most intimidating’. “I- I mean,” Simmons began to stutter, “I- just, Grif?” he called, a look of desperation in his eyes, “Don’t you want- I mean, it would be better If you said it right? you were there and-”   
  
   “No can do good buddy,” Grif replied, as he made his way through his fifth MRE since Wash had joined them, “I don’t have your eloquence, or your certain _‘je ne sais quoi’!”_   
  
   As Simmons' face paled by several shades, faced with the reality of explaining their antics alone, Wash overheard Tucker’s quiet muttering of “since when have you spoke fucking Spanish,”   
  
   “I mean,” Simmons began, his hands already raised placatingly, “It’s hardly the worst thing that’s ever happened. And technically, we didn’t actually do anything-”   
  
   “-Simmons,”   
  
   “It’s, just, Caboose,” he finished weakly.   
  
   “Caboose what?”   
  
   “Yeah dumbass,” Tucker piped up, “Caboose what? You fucking skipped all the details,”       
  
   “While excuse me for-”   
  
   “-Weakest fucking storyteller of a generation-”   
  
   “-Dumbass didn’t even tell him about the bet!”   
  
   Wash pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the pressure of an oncoming headache. He was content to let them squabble among themselves, just too get it out of their systems, until suddenly he found Tucker words registering somewhere in his head. “Bet? What bet?” he asked suspiciously, dropping his hand so he could see their faces clearer.   
  
   “See!” Tucker said throwing his hands in the air, “I knew he’d want in!” then Tucker turned to face him. Tossing his dreads over his shoulder and bracing himself on the counter he leaned in, “Simmons took Freckles, I’ve got Caboose, team pride and all, and Grif took the dog... for some fucking reason."   
  
   Grif shrugged, "eh, I've got faith in the little dude,"   
  
    “What?”   
  
   “Last man standing, Wash! Come on, put some money down!”   
  
   “I’m- okay, so I am, so, so lost right now,” He sighed, the headache was inevitable now, fighting it pointless, “just, take it from the beginning again? Last man standing out of who?”   
  
   “Caboose, Freckles, and the dog, and-”

  
   “Nope, stop there Tucker, I can only focus on so much crazy at a time,” Wash leaned back observing the three men in the kitchen of Blue Team’s makeshift base, “A dog?”

  
   “Yep,”

  
   “...Why?”

  
   “Just showed up,” Grif said with a shrug of outward indifference, “I saw it coming down the canyon this morning, I was gonna call you guys up over comms, but you know, that requires work,”

  
   Wash left out a sigh, turning his eyes toward the heavens, “Okay, so a dog. A dog found its way into our canyon in the middle of nowhere…” he paused again, frown overtaking his features, “And how exactly did this evolve into a Death Match?”

  
   “It’s not,” Tucker said with a shrug, “Not technically, but it’s Caboose, so we’ve come to expect casualties,”

  
   “Okay,” Wash said holding up a hand, “yep, see that was my fault, I let you get ahead again- uh, because, what I’m still missing is… how the fuck is Caboose involved,”

  
   “Please Washington,” Grif snorted, “an unattended potential pet that doesn’t involve Caboose? What kinda dumb question is that?”

  
   “Right. Of course,” Wash replied dryly, “I forgot we were a petting zoo, not, you know, an army.”

  
   “Yep, dumb fucking mistake Wash,” Grif nodded sagely as he bent over to light a cigarette, “logic- yeah, logic was your mistake there, that shit don’t belong anywhere near us fuckers,”

  
   “Clearly,” Wash turned his attention from the Red to his own teammate, “So… betting?”

  
   “You want in?”

  
   “No, just want to understand… what _‘this’_ ,” he gave an encompassing wave, “is,”

  
   “It’s Donut’s fault,”

  
   “Donut? You want me to believe Donut created your little beating ring here?”

  
   “Little,” Grif scoffed under his breath.

  
   “Nah, but like- him and Caboose, and Doc- they got into this whole co-parenting thing. Y’know, who was gonna look after the dog and all, and Grif-”   
   

   “I plead the 5th!”

  
   “Grif, for y’know, shits and giggles- starts recounting the fates of Caboose’s other ‘pets’, and Donut just fucking pales. So now! They’ve got this custody battle thing going on, with Sarge presiding over the whole fucking mess. And we’re betting on if Caboose gets custody of the dog-”

  
   “-Which is never gonna fucking happen-” Grif called between puffs.

  
   “-who's gonna be the last man/robot/creature standing.”

  
   “Standing as in-”

  
   “Standing as in living, yes,” Simmons clarified.”

  
   “I mean,” Tucker started up again, “We’ve got Caboose on one hand with his seeming invincibility, on the other hand, we’ve got Freckles, who's… a murder bot, and then on the other, other hand we’ve got the dog. The wild card. Never before seen in action! Anything could happen!" he paused, "probably death though,”

  
  “Simmons,” Wash said, his face neutral, “Is that clock over there right when it says that’s 8 in the fucking morning?”

  
  “Uh, yes, sir?”

  
   “Oh that's just great,” Wash gave a sigh, “I’m just gonna- gonna go for a walk... see a man about a dog.”

  
\---

  
   By time Wash was halfway across the canyon his feet were killing him- maybe the others did have a point calling him dramatic, wandering out without shoes on was not, in fact, his finest moment. But, luckily, at this point, he could begin to hear the yelling.

  
   “Caboose!” Donut’s voice carried on the wind, “Be careful with my sugar plum!

  
   “I am Cannoli!” Came Caboose’s response paired with the sound of a loud stomp, “Freckles would never hurt his new best friend!”

  
  “Freckles is a gun with a brain!”

  
  Caboose gasped, “take that back Puff Pastry, he is sensitive about that!”

  
   As Wash rounded the corner towards the center of the commotion, he watched as Donut did just that, apologizing for raising his voice at Freckles, assuring the massive robot that it wasn’t his fault Caboose and himself were fighting. Overall, it wasn’t the weirdest display he’d ever seen, but it was up there.

  
  “Agent Washingtub!” Caboose called waving his hand in the air violently, “I see you! Do you see my new friend? Strudel won’t let me name him, I think that makes him very sad.” Ignoring that last comment for the moment, Wash was immediately distracted by the large white dog that came bounding up to his side.

  
   He pulled back a little despite himself, he’d really always been more of a cat person. Dogs required too much attention, always seemed to need more energy from Wash than he had to give, “Hi there… uh, boy,” he stuttered out letting the dog lick his hand until satisfied.

  
   “Good Morning Wash!” Donut called out to him, his happy face seemed a little more forced than usual this morning.

  
   “Hey, Donut. I, uh, heard that there was a disagreement? About who's taking care of the dog?”

  
   The pink Sim Trooper let out an exaggerated breath, “Oh you don’t even know!” Caboose stuck out his tongue, as he pet Freckles's cold metal leg, “At first, I was willing to make it work you know? Doc and I are new to the whole parenting gig, and I thought, well Caboose has experience! And I mean, I knew a girl growing up who had six parents, so it’s not like I have anything against that- even if I was sad I’d be seeing our little _darling_ less. But then! I just, I love Caboose, I do, but I just don’t feel comfortable leaving my child-”

  
   “-the dog-” Wash interjected.

  
  “ _My child,_ ” Donut stressed, “with him, when Doc or I aren’t there!” he lowered his voice almost conspiratorially, “I mean, what if we see a repeat of Church!? My little heart couldn’t bear it!”

  
   “Donut,” Wash squinted his eyes and said, “Church wasn't a pet, and is currently alive,” at the same time Caboose added the ever helpful, “Not my fault, Tucker did it,”   
Wash drew in a deep breath as Donut and Caboose went at it again, arguing back and forth, evidence including the state of Caboose’s floors, and the counterpoint that, due to his name, the dog might mistake Donut for food and… eat him. This day was- this day was pushing it for Wash.

  
   “I’m, uh, just gonna step away for a moment, “ Wash called out, though both men seemed oblivious to his exit. He continued to take measured breaths as he put distance between himself and the others. One of the things the therapists he’d been sent to… after had told him, was that he got overstimulated easily. That those times when he had a hard time grounding himself or handling his emotions was due in part to a failure to properly process his environment. They had just begun working on Wash extracting himself from situations that left him drained, when the Counselor had come back and set him up as Recovery One.

  
   “Oh, hey Wash,”

  
   “Doc,” he said with a nod, fulling intending to keep walking.

  
  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Franklin is would you?”

  
  “Frank- Oh, Donut, right. Uh, he’s just over there,” he said gesturing back the way he’d come, “He and Caboose are going at it right now… Not sure if you want to, uh, get in the middle of that,”

  
  “Ah, right, thanks for the heads up,” Wash grunted and moved to keep walking, “Hey Wash?” He drew in a centering breath, refusing to allow himself to be thrown off by something so simple as having a conversation.

  
  “Yeah?”

  
   “Have you ever wanted kids?”

  
   Wash froze, “What?”

  
   “I mean- wow, sorry, that was a personal question, um, no, that’s a, that's a me thing- don’t worry,” Wash really wanted to keep moving, but that little nudging in the back of his mind that kept him a decent person urged him to stay.

  
   “Doc…listen,”

  
   “No- it’s just, I’m not sure I’m ready for kids,” the man winced, “Or, uh if I really want them at all?"

  
   “Doc… uh, you know this is a dog, right?”

  
   “What, uh, yeah, of course?”

   
   “Just checking,”

  
   “Oh, no- it’s just that, Donut and I were talking, and when the dog presented itself, Donut just kept going on about how this was a great opportunity for a dry run, a way of testing it all out. And, I’m just not sure I want to?”

  
   “Oh wow, um, Doc, this is really something you should be talking about with-”

  
   “-Yeah, yeah, I know. But, like, this is something he’s been talking about since Tucker had Junior… I don’t want to ruin this for him... I don’t know,”

  
   “Look, Doc, I’m really not the authority on this- frankly I’m the last person I’d go to for calm measured advise of any sort- but, all I can say is, talk to him? Donut- Franklin, he’s, well, uh, Franklin- he gets excited about things, but I don’t think he would ever do anything to make you uncomfortable. But he won’t know to stop unless you tell him there’s a problem.” Wash kneaded his forehead, “Doc, just talk to him- talk to him, probably without Caboose there- but know, problems don’t get solved by ignoring them.”

  
   “Thanks, Wash, that was- Wow! have you been going to therapy or something?”

  
   Wash cleared his throat loudly, and turned, walking away quickly, “And that’s all for me, bye now.”

  
   “Oh, Okay! Bye Wash!” Doc called after, voice light and careless.

  
   Wash wandered aimlessly until it got dark, not quite ready to head back to the barely controlled chaos of the bases, but too cold to stay out much longer. To his surprise, however, he found only Tucker upon his return, the other Blue nursing a cup of coffee.

  
   “‘Sup,” Tucker muttered with a wave as he passed. Wash nodded, eyeing the intact kitchen with suspicion, “Caboose is in his room,”

  
   “Oh?” It seemed an odd thing for Tucker to add, “Is he… alright?”

  
   “He’s Caboose,” Tucker supplied unhelpfully, and Wash resigned himself to the fact that he’d be getting no help from the other man.

  
    Caboose’s “room” was separated from the kitchen by a piece of scrap metal he’d dragged away from the crash site, the other three walls an amalgamation of sandbags, tarps, and whatever junk Caboose found interesting. Wash had actually put together a room for Caboose when they’d first set the base up, but the younger man had insisted on having an “open-air” room so that Freckles could come and go as he pleased.

  
   “Caboose?” he called, rapping his knuckles on the metal, “Can I come in?” The knocking was little more than formality, if he moved more than a foot to the right he’d be able to see the entirety of the room. Wash still knocked though.

  
   “Open Sesame, Agent Washingtub,” Taking that as his cue, Wash stepped inside.

  
   “Hey Caboose, how’s… the dog?” he finished lamely for lack of a name. Caboose was laying on his stomach, his hulking size far larger than the sleeping area he’d made himself, as he drew pictures in the dirt with his finger.

  
   “Baklava said I could have him,”

  
   “Oh!” Wash blinked in surprise, “that's, uh, that’s good!”

  
   “The puppy didn’t wanna stay though,”

  
   “Oh?”

  
   “I tried to get him to come home with Freckles and me, but he ran off. I think it was dinner time.”

  
   “I’m sorry bud,” Wash said, lowering himself to the ground beside Caboose, “that’s to bad,”

  
   Caboose was silent for a moment, “...Donut didn’t think I would take care of him very good...what do you think?”

  
   “I-” Wash hesitated, “I think you would have done a great job Caboose.” he answered finally, “But, maybe one pet is enough for now, we can’t let the Red’s feel too outnumbered can we?”

  
   “He would have been the bestest fighter Agent Wahingtub,” Caboose replied seriously, “much better than the yellow guy,"

  
   “That’s right Caboose, much better than the yellow guy,” He said, a quiet laugh building in his throat. In the distance, Washington could hear the faint sounds of Freckles running around in the dark, and under the thumps the yells of the Reds. At that moment Wash decided, this chaos? was worth everything it had taken to get there.

**Author's Note:**

> for antriangle on Tumblr, Happy Holidays!


End file.
